


War Paint

by FactoryKat



Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [23]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, M/M, Named Hawke (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age II Quest - Demands of the Qun, Pre-Dragon Age II - Act 3, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: After the Qunari have fled and before the war begins in earnest, one must take these moments where they can.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Series: The Mages' Champion and the Healer's Hope - The Wyatt Hawke Collection [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1276382
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	War Paint

**Author's Note:**

> A little one shot about the iconic blood swipe/war paint. Vaguely implied intimacy at the end there.

"Hawke?

Anders' usual timbre was elevated, a warm tenor distinguished by curiosity. Truthfully, Wyatt believed the man could say anything at all, and he would be rapt with attention, listening eagerly, and hanging on every word. It was less about his personal feelings for the other mage and more about his voice. He once described it to Anders as both "cheeky and emotionally open" and, well, that conversation led to some exciting places.

Alright, maybe his appreciation for it was rooted in his love for the man, but who could blame him?

Hawke paused to acknowledge his lover in between gathering up the pieces of his new armor, commissioned courtesy of Varric after he was declared Champion of Kirkwall. "Hm?" He had turned his head up slowly, raking the length of the blonde's tall, lean figure with just his eyes and the twitch of his lip.

"What-" Anders hesitated, and Wyatt saw the hint of pink creeping into his cheeks before continuing his thought. "What is that," he asked, jutting his chin outward with gleaming amber eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"What is what?" Hawke was not one to play dumb, but coy? Coy came naturally to him. 

With a scoff, Anders crossed the room and filled the gap between them. "I mean, what is that on your face? Oh Andraste's knickers, Hawke, please tell me that's not blood!" Like the flip of a switch, luminous blue energy sparked to life within his palm as he reached out to inspect a wound that was not there.

"What? No!" It was not enough just to protest, but Wyatt collected Anders's hands, pulling them away from his face, and released a heavy breath. "No. It's just Kaddis." 

"Kaddis," Anders spoke slowly, deliberately drawing out the word as if it were awkward on the tongue. His face was somewhere between inquisitive and doubting, or perhaps it was a little bit of both. Hawke wasn't really sure how to decipher the mood. On the one hand, Anders seemed to be in comparatively good spirits, but the rigidity in his ordinarily poor posture hinted at something else. He elected not to bring attention to it, pretending not to notice. 

"You know, warpaint for Mabari? What kind of Fereldan are you anyway? You haven't been away that long!"

Dismissively, Anders sighed, but liberated his hands and smoothed away the stray pieces of hair Hawke had failed to wrestle into submission that morning. Where fingers brushed against his forehead, the skin tingled, warmed by the fading kiss of magic. "I am aware of what Kaddis is, love. But what is it doing on your face?"

"Well, why does anyone put on warpaint?"

As his lovers' lips deformed into a pout, his face and the feathers adorning his shoulders painted him as a disgruntled bird. That they fluttered and swelled as he wrapped his arms tightly across his chest in defiance only bolstered the image. "It looks ridiculous." 

Deflecting still, Wyatt bent an arm around his waist and traced the lines of his sharp jaw with a finger. "I think it adds to my charm." Even as Anders squirmed in his hold, he still maintained his usual mask of confidence. _Even_ when he saw the playful glint leave those steadily darkening hazel eyes. He suspected he knew what this was really about... 

"Sure," Anders drawled, on the heels of a sneer. "If by charm, you mean exactly the opposite."

Injecting humor into an otherwise grim situation was his specialty, even if that humor was poorly thought out. "Oooh, is someone jealous? I think it would be a good look for you too. C'mere-" Hawke nuzzled his lover's neck, brushing his nose along the more delicate skin of his throat as he wrapped both of his arms around the smaller mage.

"What? Hawke no-!" 

For all the good that Anders's protests did, Wyatt reluctantly let go eventually, and a grin pulled his lips back, revealing teeth. "I'm still surprised you're letting me get back out there after taking a giant sword to the chest and all." 

"As if you would have listened to me, had I told you no?" 

All traces of good humor vanished from both Anders' voice and the room itself, leaving the space feeling heavy and the air rife with unresolved tension. One that neither of them seemed at all eager to speak on and saw fit to dance around until it came out in a torrent of emotion later that evening. The feathers adorning his partner's shoulders fluttered as Anders folded his arms across his chest again. Body language was everything, and Hawke knew and recognized specific signals. This being one of them. Guilt crept in like an uninvited guest and smothered his inner fire like a blanket of ice. 

Being the Champion was a dance built upon complicated steps that had to be executed perfectly to uphold the already fragile balance. Each step was a different part of his life. Better yet, it was a tower of precariously stacked mugs that could quickly come crashing down if anyone were to so much as breathe on it. All while Norah stared at him disapprovingly… 

Right, so the metaphor didn't matter. What did was making sure this particular piece of the puzzle never suffered for it.

Wyatt reached for Anders and delicately pulled his arms apart; he moved in close enough that their foreheads touched, and he could cup his beloved's face in his open palms. "I'm sorry. I know you're just worried about me. Trust that I won't do anything so reckless that it might break your heart. For I could never see you or bear to think of you in such pain."

The sound Anders made was neither a groan nor a laugh. "You're such a sap sometimes."

"And that is why you love me." Hawke kissed his lover's forehead and let his hands roam until they sat comfortably on Anders's waist. "Among other reasons."

"Being cheeky won't make me stop worrying, you know."

He feigned surprise, "No? What about this, then." 

His words were little more than a jumbled murmur against the crook of his partner's neck, as his lips peppered Anders's skin with kisses and gentle nibbles. The mage squirmed beneath him but did not push back. Instead, he arched his body closer, and Hawke felt him shudder involuntarily. This was more than enough of an invitation to keep going. Wyatt parted the heavy coat and slipped beneath the oversized tunic where he could reach Anders' breaches. Nimbly, his fingers plucked at the laces and loosened them enough that he could sneak one hand in, but smallclothes proved to be an annoying hindrance. "Too many layers," He grumbled idly, dragging his mouth back up along his lover's throat to a waiting mouth. 

In between the quiet moans, Hawke heard Anders snort and took it as a sign to proceed. He carefully guided them towards the desk, where his partner perched on the edge of it, the perfect spot to balance while he fumbled with belts and obstructing articles of clothing.

Breathy chuckles tickled Wyatt's neck. "Oh, you think it's so funny. Why does a man need _this_ many belts?" His question only made Anders laugh harder, but the sound made his chest swell and chased away the gloomy cloud of worries. 

"Maker, I've needed this," Anders whispered as he helped Hawke loosen his own breeches. "Needed _you_ ," he uttered in the same breath as a content sigh and scooted a little closer to the edge of the desk so he could give unrestricted access to all the right areas.

It had been a few weeks, at least, since they were granted any window to do something like this. Following Hawke's recovery from the fight against the Arishok and the injuries resulting from the encounter, privacy and free time had become scarce. Apparently, with the new title came other responsibilities beyond the general scope of protecting Kirkwall's citizens or rescuing kittens from trees. No longer could Wyatt glide conveniently under the radar. Now his entire life, his whole world was under public scrutiny, and it made him itch. 

For now, here in the moment, that didn't matter. Not when he had the man he loved so fondly right where he wanted him.


End file.
